


Snow and Mistletoe

by NairobiWonders



Series: Holiday Road [1]
Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family Gatherings, Holidays, Joanlock - Freeform, Mention of Mary, Mistletoe, Pretending To Be Married, christmas tropes, old aunts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 23:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17110385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NairobiWonders/pseuds/NairobiWonders
Summary: Inspired by a tumblr post that listed fanfic holiday tropes - fake a relationship, caught under mistletoe, snowed in and have to share a bed, mysterious present and, one That doesn't apply to Joan and Sherlock - drunk hookup - cause you know, recovering addict, ex-sober companion, they just wouldn't.Post is here:https://nairobiwonders.tumblr.com/post/181097629545/wastingyourgum-mottlemoth





	Snow and Mistletoe

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm?" He continued brushing his teeth as she spoke. 

"Would you be willing to do me a huge favor?"

"What?" She didn't answer and he glanced at her as he rinsed out his brush. Watson looked nervous. 

"Would you pretend to be my husband?" 

Sherlock reached for the towel and squinted at her, confused. "Excuse me?"

The words rushed out of her. 

"My mom, in a less than lucid moment, told my great aunt, my stepdad's aunt, that you and I were, that you and I were married... " Joan shot him a quick look as she paced in the small square of the bathroom. "... my aunt was thrilled and told everybody and it spread through the whole Watson side of the family .... bunch of gossips... " She shook her head and took a breath. "Anyway, we've been invited to the annual family Christmas party and I don't want to have them all talking about how Mary has totally lost her mind and pitying her .... so would you pretend to be my husband, just for the one night?"

Sherlock stood silent and wide-eyed, towel in hand and toothpaste foam clinging to the side of his mouth, as he sorted through the details of what she'd just shared. 

"Oh and my mom and dad won't be there. They're visiting Oren for the holidays." A pained smile was the best she could manage as she waited for his answer. 

 

 

The outside of the house had more blinking lights than the Disneyland Electrical Parade. Joan stared at the doorbell. "You can still back out if you want. I'll understand." She tilted her head sideways to take a peek at Sherlock's face. 

"Nonsense, Watson. How bad could this be? We chase murderers and solve heinous crimes on a daily basis." 

Poor man, she thought, he has no idea what he's walking into. "Alright. But feel free to use our safe word if it becomes too much." He nodded rather condescendingly. She took a moment and pressed the doorbell.

The door opened before the chime stopped ringing. Joan and Sherlock were battered by a tsunami of holiday music, loud voices, and boisterous laughter. 

Holding the door open was a large older woman with a Santa cap set on her head at a rather rakish angle. "Joanie! You made it! Merry Christmas." The woman wrapped her arms warmly around Joan and gave her a squeeze. She swung her head round to him, "And this! This must be Sherlock!" She released Joan and spreading her arms wide, scooped a very surprised Sherlock into a tight embrace. He stood arms at side and ramrod straight as she rocked him side to side with each word she spoke, "We have heard so much about you. Welcome to the family!"

From over the woman's shoulder, he stared in shock at Joan who fully expected him to yell out their safe word. 

"Sherlock, this is my cousin Scilla...."

Before he had a chance to say hello, Scilla grabbed hold of his hand and Joan's, and pulled them into the house. "Everyone! Everyone!" Her voice thundered above the din of conversation and Christmas music. "Welcome Joan and her husband, Sherlock!"

All eyes turned to them, applause and a welcoming roar followed. Swarms of red and green sweater clad family started moving towards them, arms outstretched in Watson hug-mode. Joan panicked. Sherlock would soon be overwhelmed by all the familial attentiveness and either turn acerbic and rude or shut down completely. She held her breath.

To her surprise he became the soul of affability - smiling, shaking hands, making polite comments. She moved in closer to him and he placed an arm around her shoulder. She murmured thank you. He leaned into her and whispered, "Only for you Watson, and for Mary."

The clumpings of Watsons parted to reveal an elderly woman sitting by the warmth of the hearth. The glow of flames highlighted the white of her hair and the deepness of her wrinkles. She beckoned her great niece and her husband to come closer. 

Joan gave her great aunt a kiss and a hug. Great Aunt Violet was the feared and beloved family matriarch. Still strong and sharp at 97, keenly aware of all that went on around her and not shy about expressing her opinions. With some trepidation, she introduced Sherlock to her.

He took her hand and bowed from the waist looking for all the world like an English gentleman greeting Queen Victoria. His old world manner pleased the eldest Watson. 

"Mary has told me all about you. Come sit, both of you." She patted the spot beside her and they dutifully sat and awaited interrogation. 

The fire crackled and the strains of "Silent Night" could be heard between the room's many conversations. Violet Watson observed her niece and her new husband; they sat close, almost leaning into each other. "Are you a religious man, Mr. Holmes?"

Joan's survival instincts kicked in and she jumped up, "Why don't I go fix us a plate? The food looks delicious." She ignored the pleading look from her partner. "I'll be right back." She heard him whisper "Coward" as she ran away. 

Sherlock stared after her and then turned his attention back to Aunt Violet. "Please, call me Sherlock."

"Alright, Sherlock. Are you a religious man?"

He saw she was not to be distracted and answered honestly, "No. I am not. I am a man of logic, I require hard facts and verifiable knowledge. I am at best agnostic, open minded but skeptical." The old woman stared at him, carefully studying his face. She drew a handkerchief from the sleeve of her dark red cardigan and daintily swiped at her nose. 

"Glad to hear it. We have too many namby-pambys in this family who believe anything they're told." She beckoned him come closer. "See that one over there," her crooked finger pointed at a slim man wearing a cap with elf ears. "He is a nephew, sweet boy, but an idiot ..."

 

Joan kept an eye on her partner as she took a plate and joined the food line. So far so good - no yelling, no stomping away, and Aunt Vi had not bashed his head in with her cane. 

"Congratulations, Joan!" She turned to find Rita and her wife, Ginny, smiling at her. "Love his accent! How did you guys meet?"

"Thank you. Oh, Sherlock and I have been friends for years and then, you know, one day you turn around and realize .... " The sound of Sherlock's voice caught her attention and she turned to see Aunt Violet doubled over in laughter. "... you realize .... he is the love of your life."

 

"... and that's when I told Eleanor she should leave him. Wheelchair or no, that man got around."

Holding a glass of soda and a plate of food, Joan stopped and looked from one to the other. Thick as thieves, the two appeared to have become fast friends. Sherlock popped up as soon as he saw Joan and made room for her on the couch. 

"Did you know your aunt was in attendance at Yalta? She has some fascinating stories."

"No, I didn't know. " She set her drink down and looked at her aunt with admiration. "Aunt Vi you and I need to get together and talk." The older woman tried to conceal how pleased she was with the attention. Joan smiled and offered her food from her plate, "Would you care for some...."

"No, no, you two go ahead."

Joan turned to Sherlock. "You need to try some of this." Taking a piece of pita, she scooped up a dollop of hummus for him. 

Sherlock plopped the offering whole into his mouth. "Mmm. ..." he nodded and chewed.

"I know, right? So good. Ginny made it." Joan reached over and wiped at the corner of his mouth with her finger. A sudden awareness came over her. She was touching him, her fingers on his lips ... in public. And yet she didn't move her hand away and he didn't seem to mind. She raised her eyes to his and found there an openness of feeling, a happiness that she knew shone in her eyes as well. 

Lost as they were in each other at the moment, they didn't hear the giggles and thunder of small feet running towards them. A gaggle of the youngest Watsons, who had gotten hold of a sprig of mistletoe, chose them as their next victim. They charged at Joan and Sherlock, startling them with their chant of "Kiss, Kiss, Kiss" as they held the mistletoe over their heads. Others who had been chatting and enjoying the music, turned their attention to the couple and joined in the chant of "Kiss, Kiss, Kiss!"

"I believe they want us to ... uhm ....kiss?" Joan looked around at the happy faces of her tiny cousins and then back at Sherlock. 

He shook his head solemnly and shrugged, "Well, I suppose we must then. Wouldn't want to disappoint the children." He moved quickly, not giving her (or himself) time to think or feel awkward - his lips pressed onto hers, his hand moved to her cheek and she responded. An euphoric bliss washed over them and the sounds, sights, smells of the room disappeared for those few seconds. 

"It's snowing!" The cry of a child's voice broke the mistletoe's spell and all attention shifted to the picture windows.


End file.
